Monday, 26 December 2011

“Megan.” She didn’t jump when she heard her name called out. It was a voice she knew only too well. She turned and looked at him. Woodrow Hogue. Tall. Solid. Real. Her gaze went to the stray lock of sandy blond hair that sat unruly against his forehead. It made him look boyish and vulnerable. Like the first day I met him. It was a crazy thought to have. Two days ago she would have thought she was losing her mind mooning over a man she barely knew. But it was more than that. I know him. Somehow.

“I remember that as much as you and I have craved no less from you either.”

That startled Megan. That a stranger had feelings for her was exciting and unnerving. Rarely did a man elicit that response from her. She wanted to ask a million questions. She needed explanations and validation for how she felt. What did Woodrow feel? Was he as mixed up as she was? “Reading another’s mind isn’t polite.” Her eyes were hungry to take in every aspect of him from the tip of his sandy blond had down the fine cut of his old fashioned suit to the strong thighs she longed to touch. Megan once more played with her piercing as her mind flashed back to a time of naked limbs and hot bodies straining to get closer.

He smiled. “But when you know someone so well it’s instinctual.”

Yes. It was. And that smile. It made her catch her breath in wonder. She wanted to smile in kind but there were so many unanswered questions. “Where have you been?”

“So many places. Fate has a habit of toying with me.”

“Why?” What were they caught up in? Two days ago she was worried about paying the rent. Now she needed to know why she was drawn to him and what he wanted from her.

His gaze was direct. “You know why.”

“You talk in riddles. I met you two days ago. I have no idea how your mind works.”

“Don’t you?”

To admit she did would indicate that there was more to what she was feeling than she wanted to acknowledge. She wasn’t scared of feeling. She just liked to know what was going on and not flounder as she was now. That wasn’t like her. She was strong, capable and independent. Her outlook on life matched her Gothic lifestyle. She believed deeply in the dark, sensual side of life. She chose to live boldly without fear or favor. Yet now, an edge of alarm had pushed into her neat, ordered world and Megan wasn’t sure how to deal with it. “Woodrow—”

He came over to where she sat and held out his hand to her. “You said yes to me before I left.”

She had. Though what she had been saying yes to Megan hadn’t been sure. All she knew was to have denied him would have been denying herself. Megan looked at the long, slim fingers before her. She longed to feel them once more against her skin. “I was—” Megan stopped and looked at him. What am I? Who am I?

“What? Dazzled? Confused? Unsure?” Woodrow supplied the words she couldn’t. “That’s not the woman I know.”

The eyes she looked into where soft with understanding. She felt at home with him. “Do you know me?” How was that possible when she suddenly felt like a stranger to herself? Maybe I always have. Megan realized that now more than ever. It wasn’t just the clothes she wore. She had always felt herself different to others. Until now. This man gave her a sense of belonging she never wanted to admit to needing.

“I know you as well as I know myself.” Woodrow sat down beside her on the bed. He rested one hand on her fishnet thigh.

The sensation from his touch made Megan gasp in recognition that he had done so before and much more intimately. And I had welcomed it. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

Megan didn’t know how to explain it. She was at home but not at home with him. “I can’t. Not yet. I have too many questions.”

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